


Baking and Bettering

by MilkyBabyBunny



Category: It - All Media Types
Genre: Baking, Domestic, Flirting, Fluff, Holidays, Kissing, Multi, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkyBabyBunny/pseuds/MilkyBabyBunny
Summary: The Losers, in their first year living together, decide to bake for the holidays.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21
Collections: Poly Losers Club Fic Exchange Vol.3





	Baking and Bettering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lil_Lizard_Leah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Lizard_Leah/gifts).



"If you get up, I'll let you lick the first spoon," Mike said, low and soft, tickling at the bridge of Eddie's nose with his fingertip. Light was coming in through the cracked door, and Eddie's eyes were squinted shut, ever so slightly. Mike was leaning over the bed, on his knees, face to face with his smallest partner, grinning to himself at Eddie's resistance.

He knew it didn't help his cause any, that Beverly was spooning Eddie, cuddled up to him from behind, and had slapped away Stanley's pulling hands herself.

"Hey," Beverly pouted, budging open one eye as she leaned up onto her elbow. "How come him and not me?"

"I never said who got the bowl," Mike assured her, leaning over Eddie to kiss her on her scrunched up little nose. "There's something in it for both of you. But only if you get there before Richie does."

Eddie frowned in thought, while Beverly just relaxed into it. She pinched some of Eddie's babyesque pudge, pulling a small yelp from him, and then lifted her hands into the air for Mike to help pull her up. "Atta girl," he told her, rising from his knees and taking both her hands before kissing the tops of them, pulling her to her own knees so she could crawl over Eddie and out toward the light.

"What about you, little man?" Mike turned his gaze to Eddie, who, after all the commotion and fuss above him, finally peeked open his eyes.

Huffing, Eddie began sliding his legs out from under the messy sheets, and then stumbled into Mike's torso where he wrapped his arms around, seeking the warmth there after having to leave his bed, into the wintry air outside it. Mike kissed the top of his head, and then began walking him toward the hall way, but made Eddie walk down the stairs himself, for safety. All while Eddie grouched over the sun not even being up yet.

"That's because baking takes time and we gotta lotta work to do."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Better be a big spoon though."

"I dunno... Mickey calling Minnie "Min" just feels weird to me."

"How on _earth_ does that feel weird to someone like _you_? You've called me everything under the sun! They've known each other for like, over fifty years. I'm sure by now she's fine with him calling her the first three letters of her name," Stanley argued, fussily turning the t.v. on the counter to a better angle for the oven. "Stop staring at the t.v. anyway. You finished your cereal like ten minutes ago."

Richie sighed, and then slid off the bar stool, bringing his dish to the sink for rinsing. "Wow, bossy at this time of day? You clocked in early." As Eddie came closer, pulling a bowl from the cupboards to get a bowl of cereal for himself, Richie caught him around the neck and kissed the rim of his ear as he slammed the faucet off. "Hey cutie, this is a less grumpy evolution than I was expecting."

With a flush on his cheeks, Eddie looked up with a cheeky smile. "I get first spoon. Mike said."

At that, Richie's mouth pursed, and he narrowed his eyes. "Ah, is that so?" he asked, 1920s mobster voice intoned. "Well, see here Doc, I gotta problem with that?"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well what're you gonna do about it?" Eddie asked, smug. So Richie leaned down to whisper in his ear that he'd just have lick something else, if Eddie got to lick the spoon. Eddie huffed at that, but it didn't matter how many times Richie said things just like that; he still felt much hotter inside. "You're so full of shit."

Richie looked utterly offended at that, pulling back before placing his palms on the island and pushing himself backwards, up on top of it. "Am not. You mix the batter, and I'll be a good little doggy under the table." For emphasis, he stuck his rather large tongue out flat and pretended to lick _up_.

Sighing, Eddie pulled a silverware drawer open and grabbed his spoon out. The Scooby-Doo one they found in a box of Kellogg's forever ago, speaking of dogs. "You're not even gonna be a help today, are you?" Eddie asked, jumping slightly as Stanley suddenly fell in behind him, hand grazing Eddie's waist as he reached for a large wooden spoon from a canister near the microwave.

Eddie used his spoon to point at Stan, turning a look on Richie over his shoulder, "See? That's what help looks like. Would you happen to know _how_?"

Laughing, Stanley turned a smug look at Richie, too, then kissed the side of Eddie's head before bounding over to the table where he'd mix the flour, yeast, and cloves for his Sufganiyot. "I've been wondering that my whole life."

"I can't believe either of you would ever deny just how helpful my tongue can be in _any_ a situation. I mean, really. What kind of family have I married into? So rude!"

Smiling, amused, Eddie shuffled over and put his bowl and spoon in Richie's lap, moving his hands purposely to hold the bowl for him, needlessly, of course. But just to use him was reason enough. Then he grabbed the cinnamon Chex off the fridge top and the oat milk from the fridge and began pouring. Richie, for his part, also looked amused, if not slightly befuddled. "Did I do good, sir?" he chirped, once Eddie started putting away the ingredients, accent undecidedly British-American.

"Mmm... Yeah, I guess you are a pretty well-trained dog," Eddie mused, reaching up to pat at Richie's bed-flattened curls before taking his bowl and crunching down on his first bite, the cold milk hitting his teeth a little too hard. He hissed softly, and Richie looked like he'd won something when Eddie glanced back up. But given the context of their discussion, he'd probably already looked that way. What a sucker for praise! Eyeing him with a crooked mouth, Eddie eventually came to a conclusion and said, "You're cute, you know that?" He simultaneously offered a beaming Richie a bite of his cereal. With his high metabolism, Richie could always fit at least a bite or two of something, even if he'd just had a whole meal to himself.

"Mister Tozier, guess what?" Beverly asked cheerfully, coming in from the washroom with Bill's hand in hers, pulled down over her shoulder.

"Wh-" Richie started, then quickly slurped around his milk, some drops escaping from the corners of his wide mouth, before biting out the rest of the word, "...at?" He wiped the milk onto his forearm, glancing toward the kitchen archway.

"Bill and Ben are doing laundry for us today and you know what that means..." She looked pleased to bring an announcement of Richie's impending torment.

Swallowing harshly, Richie gasped, grabbing his heart, then falling back across the expanse of the island - luckily Mike had stationed the first round of baking at the dining table, cooling racks on the counters beside the stove, which left Richie's current position clean - faking his death to get out of a chore. It happened at least once a week.

Eddie chose then to leave him be as Beverly's plaything, and went off to look for Ben around the corner, just to make sure they took care of that sauce stain on his polo. And also maybe make Ben let Eddie sit in his lap for breakfast, since the cold was creeping back under his skin.

"It's never as b-bad as you ma-ake it out to b-be, Rich," Bill reminded him, gently carding fingers through Richie's fringe, pushing the hair off his forehead so that when Richie peered up at them with his blue eyes, they could see them clearly. He didn't actually open them until Beverly grabbed a handful of his cheek though, reddening the skin with slight pressure.

"Yeah, buddy. Show a little respect for me and my entertaining abilities."

Richie rolled his eyes. "You know it's got nothin' to do with you, Miss Marsh. Why'd I have to get the chore I _also_ got stuck with as a kid?"

"Cause Simon Says, beautiful. You know that. At least you're not stuck with the bathrooms like Eddie is," Beverly prodded. Simon, of course, was their spinner. It was either Simon or Stanley, so the Losers chose the lesser of the two S's, and therefore evils, to dictate their routines.

"Pfft. I don't think you get what a sincere loss that was for one of us. Eddie never would've trusted anyone else to do it, anyway. Someone would've really caught a break with that. Stupid Simon," Richie groused.

Stanley chose to chime in then with some cool logic, however, saying, "Yeah, but you know damn well that we just woulda traded with him and everything would be exactly the same as it is now. So do your chore, or we're writing your name in every space next time we spin." They planned to make a change in the new year, despite Richie arguing for a quarterly spin. No one else seemed to mind their lots terribly. In fact Beverly was over the moon with folding laundry, found it relaxing.

"You would play that card, big-baby-who-had-Mike-take-lawn-mowing-off-his-plate. At least with doing the dishes there's some element of danger. The adrenalin rush of potentially dropping a glass! Lucky bastard."

Bill and Bev pulled Richie up off the island by one hand each and then started pushing him over toward the table so that he could help start the next recipe Mike had left on the table for them. Shortly thereafter, joined by Mike who had gone to haul in an entire load of dry ingredients they'd left in the jeep to avoid cluttering the kitchen before Chaos Day.

"How're we doin'?" he asked cheerfully, laying the bags on the floor, and kissing Bill's cheek quickly when Bill stepped over to immediately begin helping pull ingredients out. Bill tried to hush him, save Mike some pain, but Mike never was very good at ignoring the needs or wants of others.

"Mikey, c'mon. Level with us. I'm your most important sous baker, and you need me here more than folding any ol' stupid laundry. I mean this is fuckin' _Christmas_ we're talkin' about. Right?" Richie started, immediately taking the chance to fight for a metaphorical doctor's note.

Mike chuckled deeply, bringing a bag of flour and setting it down before Richie and Beverly. "Sorry, baby, but Bev deserves your help and you know that."

And frankly, with Mike's finger under his chin, and looking into his eyes like he was the most adorable thing Mike had ever seen, who was Richie to argue more. "Sifting?" he asked, instead, eager to please.

"Yes, please." Mike leaned down, kissing Richie sweetly on the lips. "Thank you."

"Me too," Beverly chimed in, fingers still grasped around Richie's hand until she let go to pull the flour bag over to open it, tipping her head back so Mike, hovering, could easily kiss her too. It was a bit of a Spiderman moment, but he managed, huffing a laugh out through his nose as he did so.

"You, too," Mike repeated. Then caught Bill's eyes, "And you." Bill was kissed, and then Stanley, with another, "And my pretty little bird." He stood proudly, fists on his hips, about ready to wash up again for the recitation of recipes to his group of elves. "But I seem to be missing my other two."

"Breakfast," Beverly said, for Eddie, but then furrowed her brows. "And ... I have no idea about Ben. Did we lose him to the dryer," she asked Bill.

"No. I don't remember him c-crawling in, but m-maybe I should go check. Be right ba-back."

No, Ben was not in the laundry room, still, so Bill began a little scavenger hunt around the house. Of course, it wasn't much of a hunt, as the washer and dryer were also on the lower level of the house, and therefore Bill needed only to pass the entry way of the home to find Ben wrapped around Eddie on their over-sized arm chair in the living room. "There you guys are," Bill said, coming to sit on the couch, and taking Ben's big bear hand in between his own.

"I'm almost done, promise. They haven't already finished anything good, have they?" Eddie asked around the cold spoon in his mouth.

"I think we're making like, a hundred things today. Pretty sure we won't run out of things for you to lick," Ben said softly, laughing around it.

"Yeah!" Bill agreed, thumbing absently at Ben's rough skin. "B-but they did start, so we sh-should go in and help soon. You sure you even wanna finish? We'll be snacking lots."

"True," Eddie said, popping the spoon out from his mouth, and pointing it at Bill. Then he sighed and leaned heavily back into Ben's chest. "But it's so warm..." he lamented, not wanting to leave the comfortable spot he'd found. Arguably better than the bed, even, apart from a missing Beverly.

Nose scrunching up, pleased, Ben stole his hand back from Bill with a parting squeeze, in order to cocoon Eddie tighter, temporarily. "How about I go grab you my robe, and you can wear it for as long as it takes you to overheat? Cause you know, once you start working, and the oven gets goin' you're gonna be as warm as mid-summer."

Bill slapped his hand to Eddie's knee, quickly agreeing, "Yup, s-sooner you get up, the warmer yo-you'll be!"

"I still don't get why we hadta get up so early," Eddie grumbled near Ben's collarbone, before stretching out his toes for purchase, and hurled himself upward, dishes clanking together. "But whatever. Let's do it."

"Good choice," Bill said, standing, too, and then pulling Ben up from the chair.

"Still want my robe?"

"Nah," Eddie answered, crumpling his face slightly, "It'd just get all in the food. Gross..." he said, faking a shiver. They followed him back into the kitchen, and saw Mike melting butter in a saucepan. Eddie rinsed his dishes, as the others gathered around the table, fumbling for Mike's old family recipes, and asking, again, which ones he wanted to start with.

They were luckily just making one batch of each food, enough to fit one or two pieces onto a plate for their neighbors as a gift. Making sure a nice variety was provided for various tastes. For those who might have a nut allergy, they previously purchased some backup gifts of nice tea towels, but Mike truly hoped that the whole block would be able to appreciate his mama's cookies.

"Oh jeez," Eddie said, catching Mike's attention, "No one thought to put an apron on Richie?"

Mike and Beverly both, in particular, looked at Richie and then cackled. "Well it's a lost cause now," Beverly said. "Jesus Christ, Rich, did you even get any flour into the bowl?"

"For your information, Marsh, I absolute-" She cut him off with an intentional squeeze to his upper thigh, and Richie's words fell as his face started to burn. "You missed," he sassed, legs falling open a little wider.

" _I_ never miss, mister. Take it back."

"Aim better, then," Richie retorted, immediately yelping when she did just that. "Oh boy, sister, you're gonna have Eds freakin' if you keep that up."

"Too late," Eddie said, fumbling over the strings of his own apron. Mike finally noticed, having finished shaking his head at the other two, and came up behind Eddie to tie them into a bow. "Bev," Eddie said sternly, "Please wash your hands." Then he promptly began washing his own, waiting for the cold water to turn hot.

"Busted," Richie grinned, sticking his tongue out.

"Needed a break from sitting next to you, anyhow," she said, sticking hers out right back, approaching the sink swiftly. "Good god, sweetie, you trying to boil me alive?" she asked, peering at the billows of steam now bouncing off the sides of the sink walls.

Eddie shrugged, reaching over with his paper towel to turn the cold on, too. "No. I just don't think our neighbors want Richie's cooties."

"Oh I'll show you cooties," Richie cried, standing up with a cloud of flour expelling from his lap before falling to the floor.

"As if I don't have them already, dipshit."

"In that case, you don't think our neighbors want _our_ cooties. Joint custody, baby."

"Yeah, yeah, you two. Shut up already," Stan said, smiling with a look between them. "Eddie, you can help me with mine, kay?" Once Eddie nodded, Stanley picked up the necessary dishes and brought them to the island Mike had, thankfully, wiped down after getting Bev and Richie started on some thumbprint cookies. "Get in there by Mike, please, and heat some oil." He covered his tray of dough with cling wrap to let them rise while the oil warmed.

"Got it!"

By the time everything was on the cooling racks, or already placed prettily upon festive plates, the Losers were a mess. Only Richie and Beverly had been excused early for a quick shower duet, so that they could fold and put away everyone's clothes. Bill and Ben had stayed roughly clean just long enough to continue throwing loads into the wash, watching a mountain of clean ones grow until their job was done. But then they grew tired and wilted... The spills came tenfold with their newfound recklessness.

So while Beverly and Richie were marathoning a favorite t.v. show on the floor of the living room, surrounded by cloth towers, Stanley and Bill were busy flirting over a sink full of bubbles, washing the dishes which were too big, or too many for their dishwasher. Richie would've revolted to see Bill helping, so Eddie, Mike, and Ben were glad he was otherwise occupied. Enjoying the cute domesticity of two of their partners rubbing elbows and shoulders, covering their fronts in water and suds, both.

They, three, were waiting tiredly at the table for the rest of their creations to cool. Would be the last to leave the kitchen after finalizing the plate assembly. "Man... I can't believe it got so late. I was sure this year that we'd be done faster than me and my mom could usually pull this together," Mike said, resting his head on his bicep along the table.

"Yeah," Ben sighed gruffly, "I didn't know baking could hurt my back as much as construction."

Mike and Eddie both frowned at that, glancing to him. "You okay?" Eddie asked, worried.

Ben smiled sweetly, nodding, "Oh yeah, 'course. It's not really so bad."

"Good," Mike said, before gnawing on his lip. "I know we were supposed to wait till the pizza got here, but I - just one? Whattaya think?" Mike's eyes were trained on a cooling array of chocolate pecan sandies just out of reach.

"Yeah," Eddie agreed, eyes lighting up. Come to think of it, he was pretty hungry. They'd had a cold lunch of salad, so as not to draw more heat into the kitchen than necessary. It really hadn't lasted long.

"Double yeah," Ben said, grinning even more widely. Ben handed Eddie two, one for him, one for Mike, then got one for himself.

Without discussion, they forewent milk, hearts set on leaving room for their pizza. Still a shower away, they'd be very hungry, but certainly didn't want milk to take up space accidentally.

Instead of simply handing Mike his, Eddie had grown tired of being in a chair by himself, as he often did, and slid away from his seat, and into a minutely surprised Mike, who fell face first, chuckling into his neck when he got a lapful of boy. "Hey there, cutie. If you think you're gonna bribe me outta my share, you've got another thing coming," Mike said, eyes teasingly moving from Eddie's face to the pair of cookies laced between his fingers.

"No, sir, that was not my intention," Eddie told him, eyes big and serious. He picked one of the cookies out of his own hand with two dainty fingers and then drew it closer to Mike's mouth. Watching him get the picture, lean in to take a bite. "See? I'm a good boy."

"Why, yes, I do believe you are," Mike told him, hand securing around Eddie's ass, feeling the curve of his lower back. Eddie's back was resting against the table's edge, so Mike didn't have to support him with his other hand. free to slide up Eddie's dirtied tank top instead, feeling his smooth skin.

Eddie grinned somewhat deviously. Enjoying the touch, tilting his head as he wondered over whether Mike might skip his next bite for a kiss. Then again, Eddie could do with a bite or two, himself. After weighing everything, Eddie decided to wrap his arms across the back of Mike's shoulders, resting his head against Mike's ear, and took a bite from his own cookie, content to let Mike draw circles up his back, then back down, and up to his peck. Teasing him as they both rest against each other.

"We should take a shower together, too, don't you think?" Mike mused aloud, leaning back to steal another bite off of whichever cookie he could most easily reach.

"Mhm," Eddie agreed, thick within his shorts as Mike's thumb drew over his nipple. "What 'bout Benny?" he asked tiredly, lazily, as he glanced back, winking at a watching, warm-faced Ben.

"Yeah, what about Ben?" Mike asked Ben across the table.

"Ben wants a nice long soak," he told them, looking soft already, even without it.

"Actually," Stan chimed in, jarring them somewhat from their triangular conversation, "Me and Bill were thinking of hitting the hot tub when we're done here. If, you know -" he smiled with small lips, extending an invitation he clearly expected to be accepted.

"We'll freeze when we get out," Ben warned but his gait was open, it was clear that wasn't an argument against it. If anything he seemed enticed by the idea. Definitely would've been the type to participate in the polar bear jump. Probably didn't hurt to imagine running to a bedroom, stripped naked, and clamoring under the covers together.

"Ah, that's okay," Eddie interjected, "Stan doesn't have any balls, anyway. What's there to freeze?"

"Ha ha," Stanley said, monotone, before quickly turning a chastising glance on a laughing Bill.

Mike grinned between them. "You two almost done?"

Moving aside, so Mike could see the progress occurring within the sink, Bill said, "Yeah! W-we only have two more pots."

So, Mike pinned a look on Eddie. "Think we could handle the last of the plates and let Ben go rest his back?"

Eddie's mouth crooked upward on one side, and then he made a show of sighing, leaning his temple against Mike's so that he could look at Ben, appraising. "Yeah... I guess he earned it."

"I guess so, too," Mike said, rubbing Eddie's hip encouragingly.

"Alright, then, Benjamin. You're off the hook! But don't expect me an' Mike to bring your pizza out to you guys," Eddie warned him. Not a worry, though. Beverly would probably provide that service on her own, needing a break, even from her favorite chore. Richie, too maybe, if the energy was high enough in the tub. Enticing enough for him to join them despite his cold bones.

Ben nodded, grateful, and slid up, popping the last of his cookie into his mouth. "I'll go throw this clothes in the hamper, then."

It was only a few moments after Ben left, already peeling off his top, that Bill and Stanley wiped their hands and started heading the same way, steeling a snack along the way. Richie had already placed the pizza order when Mike and Eddie were securing the last of the plates with a pale red cling film. All of the plates lined up on squares of counter space, ready to be delivered in the morning, their group all bundled up and fighting the cold air as they trudged through snow and slush.

When Mike and Eddie got up the stairs, first, itching to hurry up, get back down the stairs before the delivery man even left the driveway. The tone suddenly shifted as Mike gave in and lifted a newly naked Eddie up by his hips and carried him into the shower, carefully kissing - sucking at his little neck. He let Eddie fumble for the handle, turning the water, first strikingly cold, and then rapidly warm upon them. Both gasping apart at the initial intrusion of iciness. "Fuck!" Eddie said, loud, echoing within the bathroom walls.

Mike chuckled, fingers digging into Eddie's cheeks, as he pressed him firmly into the tile, "Didn't say I wanted a _cold_ shower."

Eddie watched rivulets of water flow prettily down the edges and curves of Mike's scrunched face. "Then you should've have carried me in here before we got the water running."

"Touché." Simple logic. Fair enough. The shock of cold faded, and as the warmth began engulfing them once more, their mouths met passionate and aggressive, roaming hands tender and sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH, LIGHT OF MY LIFEEEEEE


End file.
